


Repeat

by Stevieschrodinger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Come Swallowing, Food Issues, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Top Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stevieschrodinger/pseuds/Stevieschrodinger
Summary: “We’ve backed up every scrap of information there is Cap,” Stark gently puts his hand against Steve’s chest to stop him moving forward again, “we can’t defrost him yet, okay?  We have to know what we’re doing here, yeah?  And you know, an actual medical type of doctor might be nice.”Steve nods and steps back again, but it’s reluctant.  “His vitals, power input and output, temp readings, everything looks stable, really Cap, he’s as fine as we could expect him to be.  Give Jarvis time to find what we need to find in amongst-” Tony gestures expansively.  There are files everywhere, not to mention the Terabytes of digital data that Jarvis lifted from the site.Tony’s work shop is a mess, but Steve’s eyes are drawn again to the metal tube, standing in the corner.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 129





	Repeat

“Holy shit….Stark you gotta get down here. There’s a dude in a...in a fucking freezer.”

Bucky, or at least Bucky’s shell, is being displayed from no less than five separate angles on five separate monitors.

Steve has to think of him as Bucky’s shell. If he doesn’t he will crack himself.

If the others have noticed him becoming steadily more withdrawn, more helpless, more lost...they haven’t mentioned it.  
In fact they haven’t mentioned anything at all.  
Maybe they don’t know how. Or maybe Steve’s well tended veneer of happy-go-lucky everything-is-fine has completely sloughed off with Bucky’s reappearance.  
And now they have no idea how to talk to him. Likely.

A week earlier……..

“We’ve backed up every scrap of information there is Cap,” Stark gently puts his hand against Steve’s chest to stop him moving forward again, “we can’t defrost him yet, okay? We have to know what we’re doing here, yeah? And you know, an actual medical type of doctor might be nice.”

Steve nods and steps back again, but it’s reluctant. “His vitals, power input and output, temp readings, everything looks stable, really Cap, he’s as fine as we could expect him to be. Give Jarvis time to find what we need to find in amongst-” Tony gestures expansively. There are files everywhere, not to mention the Terabytes of digital data that Jarvis lifted from the site.

Tony’s work shop is a mess, but Steve’s eyes are drawn again to the metal tube, standing in the corner. 

“They shelved him because his behavior was becoming more and more erratic.” Tony and Steve look over to where Nat is sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by a fan of dusty files. She’d been cherry picking some of the Russian ones whilst Clint is holding up sheet after sheet for Jarvis to ‘look at’ and record digitally. “There’s reference numbers...I think it’s surveillance. Jarvis, this mean anything to you?” Nat proceeds to list of a long sequence, mashed in there Steve definitely picks out a time, a date, and coordinates.  
Twelve years after Bucky fell.  
Steve feels all his muscles lock, but it’s all he can do.  
The only other option is to crumble completely.

“Yes, agent Romanov. It relates directly to a time stamp on surveillance footage.”

“Bring it up J-Man,” Tony waves at a screen, juggling the Stark Industries stress ball he’d been playing with.

The footage is grainy, but clear enough that everyone can see Bucky strapped to a table. The sound is good enough that everyone can very clearly hear him screaming.

The fact that Steve’s mouth fills with blood and bile is secondary to what’s happening on the screen.

Someone is bent over Bucky’s metal arm, poking at something near the shoulder. There are a couple of other people doing things around him, fiddling with equipment. Abruptly, the screaming stops.

Every head in the room snaps to look at Bucky now, and then there’s something, muffled Russian.

‘What is he looking at?’ Jarvis’s voice quietly translates.

One of the technicians moves into Bucky’s line of sight, and he responds by leaning, stretching his neck, doing his best to look around the guy to keep looking at...whatever he’s trying to see.

‘He’s definitely looking at something.’  
‘There’s just nothing there.’  
‘Must have really fried his brain this time.’

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, a painful torn sounding thing, “Steve, they told me you were dead.” Bucky convulses on the table and all the technicians rush to do...whatever they do. One of them very aggressively sticks Bucky with a large needle. 

“Jarvis, off...turn it off.” Steve’s voice sounds almost as rough as Bucky's. He turns to look at Bucky’s containment tube again. Can feel the eyes of everyone else in the room. Now is not the time. “Nat?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a hell of a list. That was the first incident, and looking at the embedded dates, the ‘incidents’ seem to slowly pick up until it becomes...very regular. Too regular.” Nat’s face is very carefully blank.

Steve nods, decisive, “lets see the last three.”

She reads out the numbers, and Jarvis’ display changes.

Bucky is dragged in and thrown into what they now know is one of the chairs used to mind wipe him. He’s clearly injured, clothes soaking wet, and once they release him he looks like he’s struggling to keep his head up under his own power.

Steve instantly recognizes the Strike team uniforms, “Soldier, what the fuck is this.” English now, no need for translation. Bucky doesn’t answer, but his head lolls forward. The guy in the Strike uniform grabs him by the hair and drags his head backward. Steve takes a step towards the screen like he can somehow do something about it.  
Strike guy is holding what is clearly a Captain America stuffed toy.

“Where the fuck did he even get this?” Strike guy calls.  
“Found it in his kit when we were unpacking him. Shoved right at the bottom.”  
He’s back in Bucky’s face, pressing the toy close like he’s going to smother him with it, “Why did you have this? Huh?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, his head lolls again.

Strike guy throws the toy off screen, “get rid of that, and fucking wipe him and freeze him.”

“Nat?”

She rattles off another long sequence, the image jumps.

Bucky lands one good kick, effectively punting the tech across the room even though his arms are restrained. He’s babbling in Russian.

‘He’s everywhere. It’s not my fault. I swear. No. No wipes. I’ll lose him again. You can’t take him away. I see him always.’

Another tech goes flying. Bucky switches to German. Then Japanese. Spanish. 

‘I won’t let you take him.’

One of the techs manages to land one of those horse sized syringes in Bucky's neck and he flops over.

Nat reads another sequence, and the tape jumps.

Bucky’s strapped to the chair, and even though he’s restrained, he looks totally different, relaxed. Legs spread. He’s smirking at the technicians running around him.  
In a strange role reversal, everyone except Bucky looks tense.

Tinny, hushed voices.

‘Something wrong with the wipe-’  
‘-getting worse-’  
‘-too dangerous to keep this up’  
‘-unreliable-’  
‘-unpredictable-’

“He’s gonna be so mad,” all the techs go silent, swiveling like a group of meerkats to peer at Bucky. Bucky whistles, a long, descending note, for all the world a picture of nonchalance. Then he grins, and it’s smug as all hell, “so mad.”

One of the techs finally nuts up and speaks, “who, Soldier?”

“My handler. The first one. I belong to him, not you. He’s gonna be sooooooooo mad.”

Another flurry of conversation, “Jesus Christ, wipe him and put him in storage, I’m not dealing with this shit.”

All five angles of Bucky look just like him. Steve’s carefully inspecting his own fingernails.

Steve feels like a gigantic coward.

They’ve been debating for hours. Everyone else is standing except for Steve. Nat has her arms carefully crossed over her chest, but isn’t contributing currently. Bruce has is glasses off and is wavering between chewing on an arm and gesticulating with them as he speaks.

“Look, I’m not that kind of doctor, but I’m pretty sure people people have to eat.”

“Yes, Tony, but physically he’s fine, this has to be something psychological, and since he won’t talk to us either-”

“So we knock him out, put that tube thingy the doc said about-”

“As a last resort, yes, but it’s an issue that needs to be dealt with...rehabilitation is-”

“This could be a tactic to get someone in there with him-”

“Or it could be a layover from the literal decades of torture-”

They have all been going around in circles and speaking over each other for hours. He’s tried to speak to Bucky through the window of his room. Jarvis can make it one way, two way, or no way as needed. Considering the perceived danger of the soldier, no one has yet been in a room with him whilst he’s been conscious. Nat has been particularly strict on protocol. The one and only time Steve tried to argue her on it, she showed him the scar on her abdomen. Sort of killed the conversation.

Steve, quite frankly, has had enough. He has to face this. And if Bucky beats him to death, Steve’s pretty sure at this point that he’d thank him for it.

“I think I can get him to eat.” The whole room turns to look at him, like they’d forgotten he was there. “I’m going in.”

Nat opens her mouth, and all Steve has to do is shake his head. She closes it again, but only briefly.

“Steve…” the look on his face makes her change tack, she goes from soft sympathy to hard and disapproving in a blink, “fine, but if he so much as twitches wrong, we gas you both.”

Steve nods, he’d agree to pretty much anything at this point.

Obviously, they all follow him down for the show. Standing and watching Bucky through the currently one way glass.

Steve sighs, hating this, but not knowing what to say to just make them go away. Besides, his hunch might be wrong and this might not work at all.

He doesn’t think he is though, not after watching more of the footage of Bucky’s...The Winter Soldiers...glitches. 

He looks at the plates he’s uncovered on the tray. Someone had assumed they would be eating together. It’s a sensible assumption, even if the delivery is wrong. Plain white rice, steamed carrots and a barely seasoned skinless chicken breast sits on each. Steve methodically cuts up both chicken breasts, then scrapes everything onto one plate. 

The team watches him, very carefully not speaking. He takes the over laden plate and a single spoon in one hand, leaving all the other cutlery and the now empty plate on the tray. He takes both bottles of water in the other hand.

Bucky has apparently been drinking from the sink in the small bathroom, but he hasn’t showered or changed his clothes. Pretty much the only time he moves is to drink and piss. He doesn't move for the meals that have been slid into his room, doesn't move when anybody has tried to speak to him through the glass. Doesn't react to Jarvis' very polite British accent. Just stays there, curled up, at the end if his low bed. Jarvis monitoring everything down to his heart rate and occasional REM sleep.

Steve takes a deep breath, then nods.  
The door opens and he steps through.

The sound proofing is good, good enough in fact that Steve can only just make out the murmur of voices, but not what they are saying in the other room.  
He’s not sure he wants to know.

There’s one chair in the room, and Steve puts both bottles of water on the floor next to it. He ignores Bucky, and Bucky ignores him, but neither of them is fooling. They are both completely focused on each other.

He goes over to Bucky’s low pallet and takes the single pillow from it, returning to his chair. Steve sits, spreading his legs wide, dropping the pillow to the floor between them. He hasn’t put the plate down through the whole process, holding the spoon to the edge with his thumb.  
He makes a noise, mock clearing his throat.

Bucky doesn’t respond, so Steve clicks his fingers, pointing at the pillow on the floor between his feet.

He very clearly hears Clint say, “hooooooooly shit. Does he know that’s The Winter Soldier?” He must have raised his voice somewhat.

And Bucky...Steve can’t help the relief that floods him...because Bucky fucking smirks.  
Steve knows he’s being shown exactly what The Soldier wants him to see...but Steve can’t help it.

It’s exactly what he needed, “I will not ask again.” And he clicks again, once, pointing.

“Well that is some big dick energy,” Tony sounds ridiculously pleased.

And Bucky unfolds himself with all the coiled grace of a hunting tiger. He struts to Steve, and then just as gracefully folds himself to his knees between his legs, all the while watching Steve through his lashes.

Steve knows Bucky has been tortured. He’s seen the files. Knows the atrocities Bucky has been forced to commit, been brainwashed into committing. The horror of everything had been so close the the front of his mind that it had somehow become inconsequential that this game had always been a precursor to sex.

He remembers it now.

Shit.

And then Bucky opens his god damn mouth so wide, showing Steve the flat of his tongue and shit shit shit.  
Do not get hard Rogers. There's no hiding it in thin sweats. Of course the second he thinks it, Steve’s dick twitches.

He has to take a deep breath and consciously control his actions so that he doesn’t just ram a full spoon of food into Bucky’s mouth.  
He goes carefully.  
Once he’s cautiously chewing and then painfully swallowing the first mouthful, all of Bucky’s bravado falters. Both hands come up and grip Steve’s knees, clearly uncomfortable.  
Steve finds he’s not even a little bit bothered that one of them is now metal.

According to his notes, the vast majority of the time Bucky was fed with pills and pastes, or with a tube forced up his nose and into his stomach. This meal has been very carefully weighed and measured for him. Agonized over by specialists and nutritionists on Tony’s payroll. 

Bucky takes a deep breath and makes himself take the next spoonful. Steve’s heart fucking breaks all over again.

After the fourth mouthful, Bucky resolutely closes his mouth and eyes, and although he doesn’t move, he turns his face to the side.

“No more, Buck? It’s okay if you can’t, we can wait. You should take it slow.” Bucky’s head snaps back around, and gives Steve his best, ‘you done Roger’s?’ glare.  
And doesn’t that just thrill Steve? To know, for absolute certainty, that Bucky is in there.  
Steve snorts, “sorry, Buck, don’t know what I was thinking,” and then feeds himself two heaping spoons of rice and chicken. It’s the blandest thing he’s eaten in this century, but the boy that lived through a depression and part of a world war can’t bring himself to criticize it.  
From that point on he takes turns with Bucky, one spoon each, and that way they make it through the whole plate.

It’s really slow going. Bucky clearly struggling with solid food, but Steve not wanting to do anything to fuck this up.

Once the food is gone, Steve uncaps a bottle and they alternate sips of it. Steve can’t help but note how easily he’s fallen back into this.

Steve was always sickly. Steve was always weak. Steve was always small.

And all of that gave Steve a burning need to prove that he was non of those things. It gave Steve a burning need for control. He doesn’t know how it started.  
Bucky always laughs that Steve had been all of fourteen years old, a too big shirt slipping from his shoulders, when he’d bent over in front of Bucky to retrieve a pencil. Newly minted sixteen year old Bucky had popped the most confused boner of his young life.

Fooling around as teenagers had turned into one tearful argument as adults. The result of which was them deciding it was worth the risk. They had a plan. Would be careful.

Steve loved having control over Bucky. Bucky who was so much bigger than him. Loved that Bucky gave the control over willingly. Loved that he could talk Bucky into trying just about anything if he spun it right.

Bucky loved giving over the control. In a life where they worried about being caught, finding work, Steve getting sick, even having enough to eat, his constantly stressed mind shut down for a while when Steve was in charge, Bucky also loved Steve’s filthy fucking mind.

“Buck, I’ll have this little bit, it’s fine. You work all day, I sit. Plus I’m you know...I don’t need to eat as much as you.”

“For gods sake Steve, just eat your dinner, I’ll be fine.”

Steve huffs. Stewing, arms locked across his skinny chest. Petulant. Stubborn. Then he looks up, that assessing look on his face, and Bucky’s cock twitches just from that. He is intimately acquainted with that expression.

“Go get something for your knees, Buck.”

The Howlie's knew. Of course they knew. There was no real way to hide it. The Howlie's did not care. They think Peggy suspected, but she was willing to smile and flirt in public and never expected a single thing more. It worked for them.

It was like having a flashback, the conversation almost exactly the same, verbatim.

“Steve, just have the damn ration, look at the size of you, you probably need ten more.”

“Buck, I’m alright and...you lost a bit of weight while...when they had you.”

They stand at an impasse for a moment, and then the atmosphere shifts. Apparently both looking around and realizing that they were alone in Steve’s tent. Bucky goes and ties the tent flap down in the same moment as Steve pulls the blankets off his pallet, folding them to go on the floor between his feet.

Bucky looks uncomfortable. Steve does not know what to do about this. He hasn’t moved his hands from Steve’s knees, so Steve is absolutely not going to be the one that breaks that contact. Bucky is looking off to one side, at the floor. Steve offers him another sip of water by holding up he bottle, Bucky shakes his head, hardly a movement really, but enough. Steve caps the bottle and puts it back on the floor.

Bucky shuffles forward, resting his head on Steve’s thigh, sliding his arms to hug one calf, leaning his shoulder against the seat in between Steve’s legs, he almost flops the rest of the way. He breaths out, relaxing.

Steve combs his fingers through Bucky’s gross greasy and tangled hair. He could do this happily for the rest of his life.

Steve’s vaguely aware of the occasional gurgle and rumble from Bucky’s stomach, but neither of them moves and Bucky doesn’t acknowledge it so Steve doesn’t either. He just keeps playing with Bucky's hair, trying to be comforting. Hoping that Bucky isn’t too uncomfortable, but knows that he really must be. Occasionally Bucky’s grip tightens, and his breath is deliberately slow and even, like someone breathing through pain.  
Eventually, after a quiet belch, Bucky settles further, the tension finally leaving him.

All Bucky does is turn his head, but it puts his face very suddenly, and very firmly in the region of Steve’s crotch. He goes still again.  
Steve is desperate to squirm, and is fully aware that Bucky’s warm breaths are more than enough to get him hard.

He needs to make a choice, but whatever happens here, he doesn’t want an audience.  
“Jarvis, turn off all surveillance, shade the window, you can continue to monitor us interdependently.”

Nat’s voice, “Steve I really think-”

“Nat, No. Jarvis?”

“Do as the good captain asks J, but we are staying here just in case.”

Steve is shocked as hell that Tony backed him so easily. “Very well, Captain Rogers you now have privacy.” Bucky knows full well whats happening, because that’s all it takes for him to start nuzzling at Steve’s hardening cock.

He hears a very clear, “Look, if the Captain wants privacy to finally loose his virginity-” cut off by an indignant squawking noise and a very angry sounding Nat.

Steve filters it out, focusing on the feeling of Bucky’s nose running down along his cock.

“Buck...Buck we really don’t need to do this yet.” Bucky mouths at the head of Steve’s cock through the fabric. Steve has to swallow four times before he can speak again, his hands white knuckling the arms of the chair now. “Buck, I know you’ve been through so much and-”

Steve yelps, teeth, Bucky is digging his teeth into the head of his cock through the thin layers of fabric. Steve stops speaking. “Okay Buck, okay, whatever you want...I’ll just be...here.” Bucky lets him go, moving fluidly to kneel again, pulling Steve’s cock unceremoniously out of his pants.

There’s no build up, no teasing licks or mouthing at the head like Steve expects. No, this Bucky rams Steve’s cock as far down his throat as he can and then fucking swallows. Steve had a hair trigger after the serum, the first orgasm always just a thing that happened before they could move on. Bucky has not forgotten.

He swallows it, swallows it all, and then he’s merciless. Doesn’t give Steve a second to settle, to breath. Just keeps going, sucking him straight through his sensitivity. He still doesn’t tease, just builds a bobbing, sucking rhythm. Steve can’t take his eyes from the top of Bucky’s head, Watching the way his fingers uncurl and grip at Steve’s thighs. He’s not even using his hands, just forcing as much of Steve down his throat as he can.

Steve’s breathing like he’s sprinted twenty miles, squirming. Can’t think past the hot wet tightness that enveloping his cock. Even the second one doesn’t take long.

“Buck, Buck, I’m gonna go again, Buck-”

And he swallows it all. Doesn’t hesitate. This time he lets Steve go with an absolutely obscene wet pop. He looks inordinately pleased with himself.  
Steve looks a hot mess.

Now Bucky plays with him, giving him a slow, flat tongued lick from the base of Steve’s cock to the head, making brutal eye contact with Steve the whole time. Steve can’t help the whimper, or cracking the arm of the chair under his grip. Bucky keeps watching him, mouthing at the red head of Steve’s cock. Steve hasn’t caught his breath from the first orgasm and is already well on his way to a third.

Bucky bobs his head, tonguing at the slit of Steve’s cock and alternating with wet sucks, bobs deeper, then repeats. Steve knows he’s squirming, but it’s either that or thrust up into Bucky’s face and he’s desperate not to do that to him.

The room is filled with obscene sloppy sounds as Bucky shamelessly settles into his rhythm, and it isn’t long before Steve is gasping out another breathy warning.  
Bucky swallows it all again. 

Steve’s addled brain briefly wonders how many calories there are in three loads of super soldier come.

He flops back in the chair, and although Bucky is softly licking at Steve’s, finally, flagging erection, there doesn’t seem to be a huge amount of intent to it this time. Eventually Steve hisses, and Bucky mercifully stops, but he’s grinning, looking supremely pleased with himself.

Steve slowly comes back to himself, “C’mon Buck, I’m sticky, your hair needs a wash.”

He’s cautious around the shower, but follows Steve willingly enough, and strips in the small bathroom when Steve tells him to. The scarring around the shoulder looks like it would have been horrifically painful, Steve locks down his grief for later.

Remembering what he’s seen in the files, Steve makes sure the water is hot enough to steam up the small space, and gets under the water first before beckoning Bucky to join him. It was the right move, letting him see that it’s safe, and Bucky only holds his hand under the water for a moment before squeezing in next to Steve.

He stands, compliant, as Steve shampoos his hair, rinses it, shampoos it again, and then adds conditioner and lets it sit.  
Bucky’s erection has been hard and leaking this whole time, but they’ve both been ignoring it until Steve slicks up his hand with soap. He makes a warm slick tunnel against his own hip, Bucky thrusting slowly into it, rutting against Steve.

They haven't kissed yet, and as soon as he thinks it, Steve knows he wants nothing else, and uses his free hand to tilt Bucky’s head back from where he’s fixedly watching his own cock disappearing into Steve’s grip.

It’s soft at first, but the moment Steve licks across Bucky’s lips, Bucky comes in his hand with a soft groan before slumping against Steve.

Steve can’t help but think that everything might just be okay, after all.


End file.
